


In memory of thee

by hedge_podge



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Non-binary character, spooky vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedge_podge/pseuds/hedge_podge
Summary: For the prompt: Is immortality worth it?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Secret Snipers Exchange 2020





	In memory of thee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thaitea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thaitea/gifts).



> For the prompt: Is immortality worth it?

The shrill creak of the wooden stairs echoed down the narrow space. Gritty dust rained on their hair from ancient crevices in the wooden ceiling with each cautious step they took. The lantern swung in Livia’s grip as they brought it closer to the cramped writing on the parchment they held. The house _seemed_ to be the one they’d researched, yet nothing even hinted at the presence of recent life. Folding the parchment away and placing it into their satchel, they continued heading up.

The landing over the stairs didn’t provide them with any more answers. Small rays of moonlight streamed through boarded up windows, catching in the dust motes kicked up by Livia’s boots. Were they too late?

The layer of dust covering the floor muffled the sound of their steps as they carefully started wandering through the room. As they passed something that looked like a low shelf, glass crackled under their feet. With a wince, Livia moved down the wall, careful not to accidentally scrub their gloved fingers across anything fragile. If the place was truly abandoned, then they had no doubt looters had already ransacked the place, but they didn’t wish to add to the carnage. Hopefully the looters hadn’t stolen anything sentimental. The others in the community were always happy to preserve the stories immortals have collected over the years, yet much continued to be lost and forgotten.

Livia’s lantern reflected off a faded painting hanging on a half opened door in the corner of the room. Despite missing its bottom half, pale strands of fabric hanging off the edge in torn ribbons, it was easy to see that the picture used to be a stunning portrait. Specks of the paint used to carefully brush flowers into the flowing hair glittered in the uneven light. Whoever the artist was, they’d done a magnificent job. The style was similar to how one of the artists Livia had partnered with a century or so ago had decorated her transcriptions with; perhaps from the same school of learning? The painting was unfortunately too large for Livia to be able to bring with them, but they pulled out their notebook and sketched a quick note in case one of the Preservers wanted to take a look.

Just how late was Livia? All their sources had said that the cobbler had passed his business down to a friend a mere two months before, yet the state of disrepair of his house belied a much longer timeframe.

They stepped into the room the door led to, letting out a breath as the light revealed what used to be a bedroom. More dust blanketed what looked to be a bare mattress and a dark, wooden dresser missing half of its drawers. A bookcase stood on the other side of the room, its pale shelves a stark contrast against the dark tones of the wall, still surprisingly full with a pile of books at its feet as well. A corner of parchment jutted out of the dust on the floor near the dresser. Looters never seemed to understand the value in written works. 

Humming quietly in sadness, they bent down to dust off the parchment on the floor, revealing a small notebook. The cover was painted dark green leather and no name was written inside, but the pages were crammed with script and various shoe designs. Well, if anything, this confirmed that Livia was at the right place.

The bookcase itself was filled with more simple notebooks that when Livia quickly flipped through, contained designs, stories, art, and notes in various languages. They recognized some Gaelic, Irish, an older English script, possibly Hebrew, and some that they couldn’t understand. As they went through the notebooks, the few dated entries got progressively older and older. 1872, 1801, 1768, 1692.

A small note fell out of one of the books Livia was flipping through.

> _I can’t do this anymore. It’s been too long._
> 
> _I keep missing everyone yet it all changes, changes, changes and I just lose and lose._
> 
> _Please. God._
> 
> _Someone._
> 
> _I’m alone_
> 
> _Lonely_
> 
> _I just want my family again_
> 
> _I’m sorry_

They really were too late.

With a soft sigh, Livia placed the note and as many of the books as they could into their satchel. Fitting them carefully in-between the carved cobblestones they’d collected from a nearby town.

If they’d come just a few months earlier, they might have been able to tell him- whoever he was, and wasn’t it sad that they couldn’t even find his name anywhere? - that he wasn’t alone. That there were other immortals just like him and that they had a whole community of their own. Living centuries in loneliness would break anyone.

Running fingers through their hair, Livia frowned in regret. It was their job to search for other immortals and introduce them to the community, yet here was someone else they didn’t manage to save.

At the very least, anything he wrote down would be preserved and the information guarded. His legacy and memory would be able to live on.

With a final glance around the room, Livia headed out.


End file.
